This is just a little anecdote that I found amusing, and althought it’s long, lame, and rambling, it goes without saying that I consider you a humorless troglodyte if you don’t find it amusing too.
I was out running errands this afternoon. I needed to stop at the Home Despot, I had some free movie coupons from Blockbuster I wanted to use up, and I needed a new office chair. I’m currently typing this from atop a 5 coaster office chair with only two coasters left. If I were to get carried away with the latest Teagan Presley photoset, I’d probably be found dead, days from now, from the broken neck I suffered when the chair upended itself. ‘Twould be tres embarrassing.
Anyway, the chair purchase was amusing in its own way, but that’s not what this story is about. Staples was out of stock of the $99 poor man’s version of the Herman Miller I really wanted, and the well meaning sales person informed me that I could have the floor model for, I am not kidding, a $5 upcharge. I guess in some misguided way this does follow the laws of supply and demand, but at the same time it defies the overarching rules of logic. After declining to pay extra for the privilege of owning a chair that already bears the impression of numerous strange asses, I decided to treat myself to a beer or two and a burger.
My favorite place for this is one that I know can’t possibly last more than a few more months before collapsing under the weight of it’s own mismanagement. You see, this place employs 2 to 3 hostess, about 10 waitresses per shift, a manager or 3, and 2 bartenders, all for a clientele that never tops 15 at any given moment. The food is good, and without exception, the staff is highly representative of the beautiful and friendly young woman demographic. I know what you are thinking, but it’s just a restaurant. I like it though.
Today, I was followed in by a couple of middle aged men who decided to sit next to me at the bar. I smiled and said hello, and at first they seemed normal enough. It is then that the bartender working our end, who was 2nd in looks only to perhaps the hostess, who herself looked like a thinner and younger Jessica Alba, wandered over to them. The bartender looked like Jennifer Esposito, but the blonde hair looked completely natural on her (apologies to Ms. Esposito on whom the blonde hair looks good, but not entirely natural.)
The duo make the usual tired overtures, but I guess you can’t expect better. I’m a bit uncomfortable how loudly they praise her ass as she walks away, and sure enough she overhears and shoots me a “what did I do to deserve this?” look.
Having failed to get a reaction, and being politely, but noticeably avoided, they decide to be a bit more passive aggressive.
“Hey!” Shouts looser number one. “What do you find interesting in a guy? Looks? Money?"
The bartender has been down this path before, so she has an answer at the ready. “Looks fade, and if you aren’t smart, you can’t keep your money… so smarts, and a sense of humor.”
Looser number two then starts giggling. “A bitch like that will suck you dry. Look at her, she’s not beautiful, but she’s young and sexy and she knows it.”
Looser number one chimes in, “Yeah, you know what you need to get a girl like that? A really, really nice car.”
To which looser number two nods and adds, “And a boat. You gotta have a boat. That’s what you need for a girl like that.”
“Yeah, but without that, she wouldn’t notice a nice guy like you,” says looser number two. “She’ll look at a chump like this,” motioning to your humble narrator, “but she doesn’t know a nice guy when she meets one.”
After failing to talk her into doing shots, they leave a pitiful tip and quit the place. “What was that about?” She asks me.
“They seemed to have some sort of a problem.”
“They complained about me?” she asked, unable to believe it.
“Not about the service. They just don’t know how to approach a pretty girl.” This made her blush, but I’m not the least bit sorry about it. She was even prettier when she was blushing.
‘Nice guy’. Why is this code for ‘bitter guy who isn’t getting any, and probably doesn’t deserve any either’? And hey, if a girl is going to tell you what she finds attractive, why not take the calculated risk of believing her? Any theories?